


Blood On My Name

by Lyoung_50



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Brief spoilers, Case Fic, Chemical Weapons, Episode: s03e20 Olelo Pa'a (The Promise), F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Steve, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of Steve/Catherine, Mentions of Steve/Freddie, Mentions of Terrorism, Military Backstory, Military Training, Psychological Torture, SEAL Steve McGarrett, Steve Angst, Swearing, Torture, Violence, mcdanno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyoung_50/pseuds/Lyoung_50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Danny have an explosive arguement, their friendship is put in jeopardy. Before Danny can apologize, they are sent on a case and Steve is hit with a chemical weapon. The effects of the weapon soon have him spiraling into a haze of flashbacks of his best friend, and his brother in arms. With visions of Freddie dancing in Steve's head, will the team be able to hunt down the source of the chemical weapon before it is released again? And, when a connection to Steve's past comes to shock them in the case, will they be able to protect the man that they've all come to consider indestructible?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0 and all of its characters belong to Peter Lenkov, and CBS productions.

**_Five-0 Headquarters_ **

**_Present Day_ **

"Steven, you cannot, you _cannot_ , honestly tell me that you still think your dad's old hunk o' junk is still worth fixing up." Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and leaning back in the chair in front of Steve's desk. It was a slow day at the Palace, and Steve was currently milling over a take-out menu, debating between Loco Moco and spicy shrimp.

"Danny, that's what you don't get." He dropped the menu on the desk, kicking his khaki boots up onto it and leaning back in his chair.

"Okay, then explain it to me. What, pray tell, am I 'not getting'?" Danny's arms were spread wide expectantly.

"It's the princple of the matter. My dad bought the Marquis so that he and I could fix it up _together_. We never got around to that, so I have to finish it up."

"You gave it a good effort, isn't that enough?" Danny's voice had softened, but he knew that getting sentimental with Steve wouldn't end well, so he kept prodding. Steve stared, his eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched and unclenched systematically around the pen he was holding. He was about to respond when his phone rang.

"McGarrett." He listened to the dispatch operator before responding. "On the way." Ending the call, and slipping his phone into his pocket, Steve quickly stood, checking his gun as he rounded the desk. "We caught a case. C'mon."

"Call me insensitive, but I have _never_ been more thankful to hear abouta dead body in my life." Danny grumbled, following Steve and waving out Chin and Kono as they exited the building.

X X X X X X X X X X

_**North Shore Marina** _

"Would you slow down, please? The dead guy isn't going anywhere." Danny practically jogged along the pier, trying to match Steve's long, quick strides. He barely had time to slow his momentum when Steve stopped and turned on his heel, his eyes stormy.

"I want to get on the scene, Danny, is that a problem with you?" His voice was barely above a low rumble as he stared down at Danny, who had rammed directly into him due to the sudden stop.

"Woah, _woah_ , easy there, Doctor Jekyl. What is with you? You've been sporting aneurysm face since we left the Palace."

"Nothing is 'with me', Danny. I'm just trying to do my job. I suggest that you do the same. Check with the Marina owner, figure out when the vic was found. I'll check out the crime scene." Steve tried to turn away, but Danny's hand closing over his elbow stopped him. "Danny. Move your hand." He growled.

"No. Not until you look me in the eye, and tell me what the hell is the matter with you." He held firm, not removing his hand, though his muscles were all tensed, prepared for the punch that he was ninety-nine percent sure was coming his way. Instead, Steve turned slowly, his brow furrowed angrily, and gritted his response through clenched teeth.

"Maybe it had something to do with you completely belittling _my_ project that I started with _my_ father. I understand that your understanding of the father-son dynamic is a little different. Am I right? Your dad made it to all of your little league baseball games. He told you bedtime stories, and took you to see the Yankees. Your old man came to your police academy graduation, didn't he? And I'm sure he cheered louder then anyone else when they called your name." Steve had gotten progressively closer with each declaration, his finger jabbing at the muscled plane of Danny's chest. "And you guys had traditions. Stuff you did together. Right?"

When Danny was quiet in shock, Steve barked the question louder, right in his face. He was close enough that Danny could smell the tang of the coffee from their breakfast that morning that always lingered on Steve's tongue a little too long when he hadn't eaten lunch. Danny couldn't help the instinctive flinch, which he quickly steeled and growled out his own distaste, pushing at Steve's hand.

"Yeah, you're right. But, you know what? I don't need you getting pissy with me just because your daddy didn't hug you enough when you were a little kid, McGarrett." The expression on Steve's face didn't change, but Danny noted the flash of hurt in his eyes, and immediately regretted the statement. "Steve, I...I didn't mean-." Steve's large hand in his face cut him off.

"Forget it, Danny. Just...go talk to the guy who runs the marina." With that, Steve stalked off, his fists balled at his sides. He moved past the man that Kono and Chin were interviewing, the dock worker who had found their vic's body, and hopped onto the deck of the boat.

Steve ducked his head as he moved into the cabin, tugging the black rubber gloves on a bit more roughly then was necessary. He was mad. Strike that; He was pissed. He couldn't believe that Danny had the nerve to say the things that he did. He'd been appalled when Danny had made the comments about the Marquis, he'd assumed that his partner, the _detective_ , would've had enough common sense to drop the arguement.

He tried to focus on assessing the crime scene, his eyes scanning over the body and the rest of the cabin. There were large blisters across the man's eyelids as he crouched beside him, looking beneath the body. Steve's nose wrinkled in response to the sour smell of vomit that had pooled under the man.

Standing, he moved around the body, thumbing through a few maps on the tabletop and opening a few cabinets. His teeth ground together so hard that he thought that they were going to crack when he heard Danny's voice on the dock as he questioned the marina operator. He pushed the anger bubbling in his chest away as much as he could, and continued his search. He was nearly finished when he reached a small box on the last countertop.

His brow furrowed in curiousity as he looked over the outside of the box before carefully opening it. The gasp when a hiss of aerosol escaped directly at his face was instinctive, but as soon as he recognized the bitter, sour taste that settled on his tongue and the smell of moldy, musty peaches that burned into his nose, he held his breath.

Steve was practically tripping over himself to get out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him and tearing the water bottle off the captain's chair as he scrambled off the deck. He splashed the luke warm water over his face and tried to suck in enough fresh air to counteract the aerosol, and moved onto the dock.

"Steve? Hey, Steve, what's going on? Dead guy smell that bad? Probably 'cause of the cabin size, he can't have been dead long enough for _that_ much decomp." Danny joked with a tight, forced laugh. Steve extended both his hands in front of him, dropping the water bottle.

"Stay back! Get the hell back, now!"

"Look, man, I know you're pissed at me, but-."

"No, you don't understand! Get off the dock, evac the marina, _now_!" His voice sounded like it was getting more harsh, even to his own ears, and his eyes had begun to burn like nothing he'd ever felt before. He could feel the blisters forming on his eyelids. He reached up one hand to swipe at his nose as it began to run profusely over his lip and chin like he was seven years old, and had a cold.

"Steve, slow down, brah. What happened on that boat?" He recognized that voice. It was Chin, and he could sense that the gravity of the situation had at least caught their attention. Somewhere in the background, he heard the other patrons, and the dock workers clearing the marina, and the owner was barking orders at them to move quickly but safely.

"Opened a box on the shelf. Aerosol dispersal system." He knew that he wasn't technically speaking in fully formed sentences, but there wasn't time for that and his chest had begun to get tight. He took a staggered step forward before his stomach gave a violent roil, low in his gut. "Call CDC. ASAP."

His next step crumbled and he dropped to his knees clumsily, grasping at the side of the dock and retching into the harbor. It was a choked, pathetic sound, by far the most pitiful sound he'd ever heard come from his own body. Before he had finished emptying his stomach, Danny was at his side, kneeling beside him despite Steve's protest before.

"Steve, talk to me, babe, what the _hell_ is going on?!" Danny sounded scared. But, in the back of his mind, Steve knew that he had every right to be scared. He was going to die, and the last full conversation he'd had with Danny was a fight. He wasn't sure why his brain was locking onto that fact, but it was there and it wasn't going away.

"Danny, I'm s-sor-." His apology was cut off by another bout of vomitting, and Steve vaguely registered a wet warmth spreading along the inside of his cargos.

_Good job, McGarrett. Throw up on the crime scene, and piss yourself. All in a day's work._ His inner-monologue chastised. There was a steady stream of saliva dribbling out of any part of his mouth that it could escape, and he was sure he looked like some screwed up Saint Bernard, slobbering and urinating on himself.

"Forget about that, Steven, tell me what's wrong!" The ambulance was wailing to a stop outside the marina as Danny swatted at the side of Steve's face in an effort to keep him concious.

_Oh, thank God, the ambulance is here. It would add insult to injury for a SEAL to die on the dock of a fancy marina._

"N-nerve agent, Danno...Cyclosarin." It took an enormous effort to squeeze the words past the tightening in his chest as his breath got shorter. Danny's face going ghost white was the last thing that he saw before paramedics were crowding him, and loading him into the back of the ambulance, and his world was plunged into swirling, motion-sickness inducing darkness.

X X X X X X X X X X

**_King's Medical Center_ **

Danny ran through the halls behind the stretcher that Steve was laid on. The paramedics were yelling orders to the nurses and doctors that swarmed them. He struggled to hear anything that remotely made sense, but that wasn't happening.

"He said it was a nerve agent." He called over the white noise of everyone's voices. "Cyclosarin." One of the doctors nodded at him briefly before commanding the attention of all the others.

"Someone get me atropin, we've got a nerve agent, which means our clock is already ticking a mile a minute. The case looks rather serious, so lets get 2-PAM Chloride as well." Just as the doctor finished giving the order, all hell seemed to break loose.

Steve's body convulsed violently on the stretcher, and thick, white foam drooled over his chin and down his neck. Every vein in his body close enough to the skin to do so seemed like they were trying to burst out, and his teeth gave a sickening creak as they clenched tightly. The sound that came from Steve's throat sounded more like a wounded animal then anything else.

Danny felt sick, and had to talk himself down from tossing his lunch in the hallway of the hospital as his partner disappeared around the corner and out of sight. One of the orderlies had a hand pressed to his chest, keeping him from following after.

"Sorry, Detective, they need room to work on Commander McGarrett." The young orderly spoke softly, as if trying to soothe Danny despite the fact that he was telling him that he couldn't follow Steve.

He drew his hands through his hair, his fingers shaking, and he began pacing back and forth quickly. Kono and Chin jogged up behind him soon after, their faces shrouded in panic.

"What'd they say?" Kono asked, her hand resting on Danny's shoulder to stop his pacing.

"They, uh, they didn't say much. One of the doctors rattled off a bunch of drugs I've never heard of, and they rushed him into that back room." He knew his voice sounded strange, and out of character, but he couldn't bring himself to care when the tears finally began to burn behind his eyelids.

"He'll be okay, brah, he's Steve McGarrett. Nothing can knock him down for more than a few hours..." Chin said, though he had a frown creasing his brow as well. All Danny could force himself to do was nod numbly, and stumble toward the waiting room full of chairs to sink into one of them.

All they could do now was wait to see how hard Steve was willing to fight this.

X X X X X X X X X X

**_Coronado, CA_ **

**_15 November, 1999_ **

_Steve was doing his best not to fidget, he truly was, but it was getting increasingly difficult as the line he was standing in neared the fold out tables in front of him. He tapped the clipboard clutched in his sweaty hand against his leg, the fabric of his fatigue pants scraping against the metal clip. He was sure that the sound wasn't audible to any of the other men around him, but to him, it sounded like it was in stereo._

_"You as nervous as you look, or should I be worried about an impending catostrophic explosion, bud?" The voice from behind him was laced with amusement that was barely covering up its own nervousness. He turned at the waist, looking over his shoulder, and squinting to see the other man._

_"Excuse me?"_

_"I'm just saying, you look like you're about ready to snap that clipboard in half, and I want to be aware if you're intending to Hulk out, or chuck your lunch." The man was beaming a teasing smile at him, one that made him look even younger than Steve imagined he was. He furrowed his brow, attempting to deter any further conversation with a thousand-yard stare he'd been perfecting. Apparently it still needed some work, the man never waivered._

_"I'm fine. Just...wish this process would move a little bit faster. I wanna get signed up before I breach the age cap." The laugh that eminated from the man was nothing short of booming._

_"Well, I know you're not new to the Navy, so you definitely know that there is nothing fast about any process. It's a whole lot of hurry up and wait bullshit." He thrusted a meaty hand forward, nearly jabbing Steve in the stomach with ramrod straight fingers. "Freddie Hart." He eyed the hand for a moment before closing his own around it, giving a firm shake._

_"Steve McGarrett."_

_"Well, Steve McGarrett, if things go the way that I've been calculating them out, you and I are gonna be seeing a helluva lot more of each other." Steve rose an inquisitive brow at the statement, but Freddie pointed at the table a few men in front of them in response. "I got good hearing. They've been assigning guys to training classes that are around thirty to thirty-five guys. That means that you and I are gonna be in the same BUD/s class, man."_

_"S'that right? What makes you think that they're gonna stick to the same classification this whole process?"_

_"It's a systematic process, Steven-."_

_"It's Steve."_

_"-And the military has a tendency to find a process that works, and keep it for generations. I highly doubt that they are going to be suddenly stricken with the dire need to change up that process in the next," He peeked around Steve to survey the number of men in front of them. "Two minutes, give or take."_

_He stared at Freddie for a long moment, that goofy, over-zealous smile already beginning to grate at the back of his skull. This was going to be the longest two minutes of his Navy career to date, he could feel it like a dull ache in his bones._

_"You use an awful lot of big words, don'tcha, Freddie? And, you kinda strike me as a smartass."_

_"Lookit you, deductive reasoning at its finest. Hey, if the SEAL thing doesn't work out, you might have a job as a detective in your future." Freddie gave another booming chuckle. "And, the fact that you haven't told me to fuck off, or just, I don't know, turned back around, tells me that you like the fact that I'm a smartass. Refreshing, isn't it?"_

_"What is?" Steve avoided the statement about him liking the fact that Freddie was a smartass. To be honest, yeah, he kind of did. He had always been drawn to people like that. He couldn't explain it. If there was someone willing to look past his surly personality, and call him on his shit? Steve could dig that._

_"Someone accepting things at face value for what they are. Someone that doesn't try to sugar coat every situation. See, the way I view this, I could have sat here, kept my mouth shut, and only engaged in any sort of conversation when we are both two degrees from hypothermia, and running on half an hour of sleep. What I'm doing here is called forging bonds, man. That way, neither of us are going into this shit show solo. Ya feel me?" He pondered the statement for a moment before giving a jerky nod._

_"Yeah, I guess I do."_

_"Good. Now, wipe them hands off, and tighten up that sphincter, sailor, you're up." He gave Steve a shove toward the table, and he was suddenly faced with an older man staring at him as if he could fry him where he stood._

_"You intend to hand over that paperwork, or did you wait in line all this time to stare at my pretty face?" The man's voice was gravelly, and surly enough to send a shiver down Steve's spine as he handed his clipboard over. Pale eyes scanned over his scrawled handwriting. "Steven J. McGarrett. You really think that you have what it takes to make it through SEALs, boy?"_

_"Yes, sir." Steve's response was immediate, and firm._

_"Chief White. From this moment on, you will refer to me as Chief, McGarrett. I'll be running your BUD/s class." He stamped a few spots on Steve's paperwork hard enough that the table shuddered, and creaked under his hands. "Lucky for you, this little party doesn't start until after the New Year. That means that you get a few extra months for your mommy to coddle you until I become your mommy. And your daddy. And, if I damned well feel like it, your executioner. Sound good?"_

_"Yes, Chief." Chief White put on a shark smile in response, and handed over his paperwork._

_"That's good to hear, Steven J. McGarrett. You have a super holiday season, son." The faux sweetness behind the words made Steve's skin go clammy, and had him nodding before he forced himself to walk slowly away from the table, keeping his composure until he rounded the corner out of sight, and let his back rest against the cool brick wall. He sucked in a a few breaths before looking at the paper work in his hands, a grin spreading slowly across his face._

_He was enrolled for BUD/s training. He was going to be the best of the best. He was going to be a SEAL. There was no room for "if" about his training. He was going to finish this, and he was going to have that trident pinned on his uniform at graduating._

_His eyes lifted to find Freddie strolling out of the line with the same dopey smile on his face, his interaction with Chief not having deterred him whatsoever. That smile was enough to tell Steve that he, in fact, would not be enduring the training "solo"._

_"Hey, man. Ah, cool, you got green-lit too. Sweet. What'd you think of Chief White? He seems like quite the trip, huh?" Steve opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off before he could. "You got leave for Thanksgiving?"_

_"No, not this year. I'm stuck here."_

_"That sucks. But, if you're interested, my family is just a little ways outside of town. You're more than welcome to come have dinner with us, you know."_

_The invitation seemed abrupt. He'd met the man not even twenty minutes ago, but it wasn't like he had leave to fly home to Honolulu. Not that he had intended to even if he'd been granted leave. He hadn't been home since he'd shipped out to basic training, and he wasn't sure that his father would be up to putting on a Thanksgiving dinner. Mary Ann wouldn't be there, he was sure, and John hadn't been a fan of the family get togethers since his mother had died._

_"You know what...sure, Freddie. That sounds nice, I'd love to." He nodded, trying to mimic the man's easy smile, though he was sure his own came off tight and forced, as it often did._

_"Awesome! I'll let ma and dad know, and I'll pick ya up that morning?" Steve nodded, rattling off his address in base housing easily. Freddie clapped him on the back, and disappeared into the crowd of camoflauge before Steve could get out a 'thank you', and he was left staring, wondering how exactly he was supposed to adjust to having this whirlwind as his new "forged bond". His brain supplied the words 'it could have been someone worse' lamely, and he sighed before trudging back to the base. He had to be on the gate in an hour anyway_.

 

X X X X X X X X X X

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_King's Medical Center_ **

**_Present Day_ **

Danny didn't know what was going on in Steve's head, but the man looked awful, whimpering and shaking in the hospital bed. They had finally allowed Danny to come in and sit with him nearly twenty-one hours later, even though Steve was more comatose then anything.

Every few moments, the name Freddie escaped Steve's lips in a hushed tone, and his eyelids fluttered as if he was going to open them, though he never did. The doctor had said that they didn't know when, _if_ , Steve was going to wake up, but Danny wanted someone to be there when he did, and he would be lying if he said he didn't hope that it was him.

They had administered several counter measures to the Cyclosarin that Steve had ingested, and the doctor had told him that it was only a matter of time before they were able to see what the damage to Steve's nervous system had been. His stomach had jumped into his throat when they said the words "mental impairment" and "psychological side effects".

All that he could think about was the fact that Steve, _their Steve_ , may not ever be back. When he woke up, he might not be himself, and Danny didn't know how they were going to handle that. Steve was their boss, he was the glue that stuck their little ohana together, and that might be gone.

It was Friday, he vaguely realized, and panicked slightly. Grace. He was supposed to have Gracie that night. How was he supposed to hold it together in front of his daughter? He'd barely been able to contain himself when he and Rachel had split. Somehow, Steve laying in that hospital bed seemed worse...

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed Rachel's number, chewing his thumbnail as he listened to the ringing.

"Hello, Daniel."

"Rachel." He breathed out the word, not even realizing how broken and... _lost_ it sounded until he'd already said it.

"Danny? What's the matter? Are you hurt?" He could hear the panic in Rachel's voice that he always used to hear when he called her from the department back in Jersey.

"I'm okay, Rach, I...it's not me, it's...it's Steve." He rasped the words quietly and he could hear her gasp in response.

"Oh, Danny...I'm so sorry. Is...is he...?"

"He's in a coma right now. Doc says they don't know if he's going to wake up, and even if he does...there may be some brain damage. He got hit with a nerve agent. I want you and Grace to stay inside until we finish solving this case, okay? Don't go out _anywhere_."

"Of course. I...what should I tell Grace?"

"You know what...lemme talk to her." There was some shuffling on the other end of the phone.

"Daddy?" The breath whoosed from Danny's lungs when he heard Grace's voice.

"Hey, Monkey. Listen, okay, I know we were supposed to go with Uncle Steve to see the dolphins this weekend, but...Uncle Steve is pretty sick right now. I'm gonna have to take care of him, and I don't want you to get sick, too. You think it would be okay if we went to see the dolphins another weekend? Maybe you can stay with mommy until Uncle Steve feels well enough to come home from the doctor, and then you can play doctor and nurse him back to health?"

"Is Uncle Steve gonna be okay, Daddy?" The panic and hurt in Grace's voice at the knowledge that there was something wrong with Steve would have brought Danny to his knees if he wasn't sitting down.

"Yeah, baby, he's gonna be okay, he's just not feeling the greatest right now. He's sleeping, okay?"

"Okay...you should go take care of him now."

"I'm going to do just that, Monkey. You're such a smart little girl, you know."

"Just like you!" The smile was evident in Grace's voice.

"Yeah, just like me. Hey. Danno loves you. Very, very much."

"I love you, too, Danno. Give Uncle Steve a kiss on the cheek for me."

"I will, Gracie. Have a good weekend with your mom." The line went dead on the other end, and Danny sighed, hanging up his own phone and reaching over to take Steve's hand in his, untangling his strong fingers from the sheets on his hospital bed. "You've got to wake up, Steven...we need you."

The only response from the man in front of him was a faint whimper and more quivering.

X X X X X X X X X X

**_Coronado, CA_ **

**_December 2000_ **

_After the altercation with Freddie at the bell, and the grueling bear crawl back to the barracks, Steve had barely had an hour before the two-mile swim. He knew that he should be sleeping. He knew that they were closing in on Hell Week, though he couldn't be sure of how close they were. He could hear the rest of the men in his barracks sleeping, the sedate sound of slow breathing the only thing audible in the small space. His jaw ached, and his back was sore, down to the bone from the bear crawl. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he couldn't quite his mind._

_Freddie had almost quit. He had almost DOR'd, which would have left Steve "solo". They were only on their seventh official week of BUD/s, having endured Indoctrination and pre-training for five weeks in the beginning of the year while they were awaiting their first day, but Freddie and Steve had been almost inseperable since the Thanksgiving dinner with Freddie's family._

_He was like the brother that Steve had always wanted. Loyal. Funny. Daring. And dinner at an actual table where the family said more than two words to each other had been a bit...jarring at first, but once he'd settled into the rhythm of it, he felt himself grinning more than he had since Leilani Leung had let him hit a grand slam in the back of his old beat up pick up truck in the dark parking lot of that bluff on the North Shore after prom his senior year._

_Steve rolled onto his side, his stomach giving a traitorous roil of panic at the thought of not having Freddie by his side for the rest of training. The other man's face was tranquil, uncharacteristically lacking the goofy grin that he always wore, even in his sleep, his expression troubled with a worried brow as he dozed instead. The bruise Steve had left high of Freddie's cheek had started to swell, the blood from his nose drying on his skin starting to crackle and flake._

_I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity._

_The philosphy of the Navy SEALs._

_The words had been beaten into their skulls the first day of training with Chief White stalking along the lines of men in the breaking waves as they coughed and sputtered them between crashes. He'd watched them all critically, his arms crossed behind his back as he barked out the lines with practiced ease. Steve had been striken by how much deeper the creases at the corner of his eyes had looked under the inky shadow of the bill of his cover where it shielded his eyes from the sun._

_That night (more accurately, the wee hours of the next morning), Steve had been hunched over the head in their barracks, his stomach convulsing as he vomited salt water and sand for nearly an hour. He wasn't alone, either. Four men had DOR'd that night. He couldn't even remember their names now. He never kept track of the ones that quit. They were weak, and he reserved that mental capacity for ballistics tables._

_The thought that Freddie could've quit, just like those jelly-spined lowlifes that first week, sent a scorch of denial through Steve. He wouldn't let him. Not after the discussion that he'd had with Freddie's dad on Thanksgiving. The shimmer of pride in the man's eye had been seared into the back of Steve's memory. He was going to make sure that Freddie was standing next to him at graduation if it killed him._

_His eyes had just barely begun to close when the sound of the bell rung out across the barracks three distinct times. His eyes snapped open to find Freddie still in the cot next to him, and he gave a soft smile. Another quitting son of a bitch. But not Freddie. And not Steve. They were still there._

_Twenty minutes later found Steve, Freddie, and the rest of their BUD/s class lined up in front of Chief White, their hearts all pounding out the distinct rhythm of fear in response to five words._

_"LADIES!" White gave them a slow, terrifying smile. "Welcome to Hell Week."_

_X X X X X X X X X X_

**_Three Days Later..._ **

_Steve's blinks were getting fewer and farther between. He was sure of it. His eyes ached, and felt like someone was pouring sand directly into them every time that his lids slowly tracked through a blink. They were sitting in the mess hall at 0430 hours, their bland breakfast barely having time to cool on the trays in front of them as the men shoveled into their mouths, the only sound filling the air being the occasional choked sound of swallowing too fast._

_They had learned early on at BUD/s that when Chief said "fall out", you dropped your forks, and you got the hell out of the mess hall. A few men had made the mistake of hesitating the first night, and paid for it at lunch. The men had just settled into the rigid chairs at their table when he'd told them to fall out. Dinner had gone in much the same manner. By breakfast the next morning, their blood sugars were all hovering dangerously low, and they wolfed down the food as fast as they could without choking._

_Hell Week, however, was an entirely different type of torture all together. They hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours, and they'd been going non-stop since it had commenced. Running through the surf, carrying telephone pole-sized logs through the streets of the base and across the beach while they called out cadences as loud as possible, and doing enough push-ups and pull-ups that Steve's arms felt like fifty pound weights._

_The problem at that moment, however, was the unbearable exhaustion that had seeped into his brain. That was the only expectation that he had for the fact that he was nearly one-hundred percent sure that there was an eight-point buck staring at him from across the mess hall. He licked his lips for a moment, gritting his teeth through another slow, agonizing blink as Chief made his way closer and leaned down._

_"Might I ask what you're staring at, McGarrett?" His voice was that low, faux soothing tone again. Steve extended one shaking hand toward the buck._

_"There's a deer, Chief. He's lookin' right at us. How'd he get in the mess hall, Chief?" His words were slurred from his exhaustion, and the fact that his tongue was dry. He quickly swallowed down some of his water, some of the cool liquid dribbling down his chin._

_"Well, Steven, then you should probably remove the animal from the premises, shouldn't you?" He felt the familiar handle of an SOG knife pressing into his hand as he stood from his chair, crouched low._

_"Hooyah, Chief." He whispered, creeping toward the deer. It didn't move, other than the beady eyes tracking his every movement across the mess hall. Steve was nearly on top of the animal, his knife raised above his head, when Chief's metal cup slammed against the table, shaking his concentration._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing, McGarrett?" He questioned, his face hardened, even though Steve detected the smug smile that lingered behind it._

_"I was getting rid of the deer in the mess hall, Chief." He responded, pointing toward the animal. Or, rather, what he thought was the animal. He turned, staring in awe at the tray caddy in front of him, and the butter knife that Chief had stuck into his hand. He floundered for a moment before straightening to his full height, and heading back toward his seat. White gave a short chuckle before standing and booming out "fall out"._

_There was a rush of bodies as they emptied the mess hall. Steve was halfway to their rendevous point when Freddie appeared beside him. They ran a few moments in silence before Freddie wheezed out._

_"Swear to God, I thought I saw it, too."_

_"It looked so damned real..." Steve shook his head, sweat pouring down his face, despite the fact that the sun wasn't even up yet. "You as tired as I am?"_

_"Hell yeah, brother."_

_They reached their rendevous a moment later, just as White was arriving, and they stood at attention, breathing heavily._

_"Alright, ladies, we're going to take a little stroll. Ten miles in full battle rattle sound good to you?" He lifted a hand to his ear, waiting for the inevitable chorus response._

_"Hooyah, Chief!"_

_X X X X X X X X X X_

_Steve couldn't deny that the bell had begun to look more enticing every time he walked past it on his way back to the barracks. The four inch braided rope hung, swaying in the light California breeze. It would have been so easy. Three rings. That's all it would take. It would end the midnight runs, the hikes through the woods in the middle of the night to work on compass and map skills, the intense PT drills. He had even noticed Freddie watching him more closely as they passed the bell since the episode in the mess hall._

_They were laced up in the surf, with icy cold waves crashing over their heads while they all bellowed "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" over the raging water. Steve's teeth were chattering audibly as he sang, his muscles almost convulsing they were shivering so hard. The bone-deep chill that had set in the first day of BUD/s was radiating through him._

_I will never quit._

_His lips were blue. But, he didn't care. His bones creaked every time he shifted, the cartiledge too cold to move fluidly. But, he didn't care. He wanted to scream, to cry, to give all of this up. But, he didn't._

_I will never quit._

_Chief loomed over him like the shadow of Aloha Tower when he went shopping with his mother as a boy. His eyes hard, and boring into him, like his father when he taught him how to throw that perfect spiral at the hanging tire on the Banyan Tree in the back yard. His pulse was pounding in his ears like the thunder that used to roll across Oahu with pelting rain. And then...it was done. All of it. With five simple words._

_"Gentlemen! Hell Week is secured!"_

_X X X X X X X X X X_

 


	3. Chapter 3

_**King's Medical Center** _

_**Present Day** _

"Danny, you've been sitting in the chair for over twenty-four hours. You need to go home. Get a change of clothes, take a shower, get some food, and maybe even rest for a while. The doctor said that they'll call when Steve wakes up." It was Kono's voice that broke Danny from his trance-like state. He startled, looking up to where she was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

"M'fine, Kono, I want to be here when he wakes up. Have you guys gotten anything on the case?"

"Well, we have a few leads that we've been running down. HPD is lending a hand. Chin and I were on our way to the Waipahu to talk to a suspect." He nodded, rubbing at his eyes until he saw burst of color behind his closed lids.

"Talk to me about the suspect."

"His name is Jason Griffin, twenty-nine years old. He owns the boat three docks down from our vic. The marina owner says that they've had a little feud for quite a while. Apparently, Griffin bumped the vic's boat one evening when he was coming in, and the vic got pretty heated about it. Not that I can say that I blame him, that boat that we found him on costed upwards of a hundred thousand dollars, and Griffin's fishing boat caused ten thousand in damage."

"So, why would Griffin be the one looking for revenge if _he_ was the one that caused the damage? You'd think that our vic would've been pissed off enough to lash out."

"You'd think that, but, turns out that our vic had filed a lawsuit against Griffin when he told him that he couldn't cover the damages." Danny sighed, pincing the bridge of his nose, mulling the facts around in his head for a moment.

"Griffin gets the paperwork, gets pissed about the lawsuit, and rigs the vic's boat with a nerve agent. That just seems...I dunno, it seems way too intense to be some altercation over boat damage."

"Maybe, but money can make people do crazy things, Boss."

"I guess...where the hell would a fisherman from Waipahu get a chemical weapon?" His hands slipped through his hair, tugging at the already messy strands.

"We're tracking the agent now, the hazmat team got a few numbers on the canisters and they're running trying to pin the supplier down. That could take at least a day to locate them, though, so you need to go home and rest!" The furrow in her brow, and her tone of voice was enough to make Danny know that she shouldn't be questioned.

Normally, he would listen to Kono when she was using that tone. But, this was different. This was _Steve laying in a hospital bed_. He chewed at his lip for a moment, cursing the tears that had started to bubble up for what felt like the thousandth time since this whole ordeal started.

"Danny...Danny, it's gonna be okay." Kono's voice was lower and much closer. He briefly noted that she was kneeling beside him. "It's Steve, he can make it through anything. SuperSEAL, remember?" She was trying to make him feel better, he knew, but there wasn't a damned thing that was going to do that.

"The last conversation we had was a fight, Kono...what if he doesn't wake up? What if he wakes up different? I'm always going to know that the last conversation I had with _my_...our Steve was a fight."

"You guys fight all the time, Danny. It's kinda who you guys are..."

" _No_. You don't get it. We never fight. Sure, we argue all the time, but we never fight. This was a _fight_. I told him that the idea of finishing up that piece of crap Marquis just because his dad bought it for them to fix was dumb...I shouldn't have said it. I understand why he wants to finish it, I do, but I was just pushing his buttons, and it got blown out of the proportion."

"Oh, Danny...I'm sure that Steve knows that you didn't mean that."

"You saw him, Kono...he was so angry. And, now he's..." He glanced over to the bed, snuffling softly. He was laying in that bed, looking so incredibly, uncharacteristically _small_.

He was Steven God-damned McGarrett. He was warrior extraordinaire, Navy SEAL badass, and Five-0 commander in chief. However, he was so much more than that.

He was Gracie's Uncle Steve.

Kono's surf buddy who took in the waves every Sunday morning on the North Shore after slurping down paper cups of Kona brew black coffee.

Chin's spear fishing partner every few weeks when they got the chance to pull in a haul and grill it up for a "team building barbecue".

Mary Ann's big brother who still protected her like she was seven years old, as much as she told him she hated it.

But, most of all, he was Danny's partner. His best friend. His "police protocol, Steven!". His long, lingering smiles across the lanai, watching the sun set over the private beach. His deep, rumbled laughs when sitting too close together on the couch, and watching some old comedy movie that Steve was sacreligious enough to never have heard of. He was Danny's...just _Danny's_.

Oh, God...

"What's wrong?" Kono's hand was a solid weight on his shoulder, pulling him back from the dark web of his thoughts again.

"...I love him." He didn't even recognized the strained, thin voice as his own. It sounded foreign to his ears, even as he said it. Kono simply stared at him for a moment before smirking slowly, and standing.

"You know, for a detective, it takes you're not very observant, Boss. You're pretty far behind the times on that little revelation." Danny let out a pathetic groan, covering his face with his hands, and mumbling out a response.

"You're fired."

"After I make coffee when you come back?" Kono chuckled, her hand resting on his jutted hip.

"Exactly. Don't you have some sort of work to do other than tormenting me?"

"Of course I do. And, I better get back to it, my boss is a real hard ass." She gave him a teasing wink, backing toward the hospital room door. "Oh, and Danny? Now that you've figured this little thing out about your feelings? You better tell him when he wakes up. Or, I'm gonna have to kick your ass." He gave her a mock salute, slumped back against the chair again.

"Aye, aye, Kono. Now get the hell outta here." Then she was gone in a flash of sun-browned skin, and a sarcastic smile.

Danny heaved a slow, heavy sigh, his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the chair. He loved Steve...he loved Steve, and apparently everyone else knew before he did.

He could deal with this...

X X X X X X X X X X

**_Bangkok, Thailand_ **

**_June 2002_ **

_"We've got two tamgos in the next corridor. Stay frosty, Striker Six-One." The comm in Steve's ear crackled to life quietly. He leaned around the corner, just enough to see into the hallway, his hands clutched tightly around his gun._

_"Roger, Big Eye, confirm two tangos. Taking them out on my go. Keep it tight." He gestured for Freddie to creep to the other side of the small doorway. Watching as the other man moved, his thumb shifted to make sure that the safety was disengaged on his weapon, then all hell broke loose._

_There was a flurry of a few rapid, and muted shots before the tangos in front of them were in a crumbled heap in the middle of the hallway. Steve carefully crept forward, snagging a Sig P228 from one of the guards' thigh holster and tucking it into his own waist band._

_"Tangos eliminated. Moving forward to find target, Big Eye." Steve hissed. There was a quiet "roger" over the comm as he turned toward Freddie._

_"Lets go get this son of a bitch, Smooth Dog." Freddie grinned, extending his fist toward Steve, who promptly bumped it with his own, and grinned back._

_"You got it, hoss. We'll get this bastard, and then the first round is on you." Freddie snorted, and they headed toward the door at the end of the hallway, guns at the ready. Steve braced himself against one side of the door, waiting for Freddie to get in position on the other side as well._

_They had been tracking this man since their BUD/s graduation, and they had finally, finally, been able to pin him down to one location. He was a scientist that had been used by Victor and Anton Hesse a few years earlier. They had contracted him to synthesis a nerve agent for them to use as an intimidation factor in their next arms deal. Freddie and Steve had been tasked with hunting him down, and trying their damndest to prevent anymore chemical weapons from being produced._

_Freddie extended one hand, counting down from five, and then Steve's boot conntected with the door, sending it crashing into the room off its hinges._

_"Josef Koebel, get on the ground!" Steve barked, moving through the large compound, made mostly of tents, and poor attempts at buildings. The man stared back at them with pale, apathetic blue eyes from his seat in a turning computer chair. He was young, much younger than Steve had expected, and his jet black hair was shaggy enough to lay over his forehead. A large, thick cigar rested between his lips, and the smell of smoke permeated through the air of the room._

_Steve and Freddie moved in quickly, each of them sweeping to one side of the room. Steve's eyes focused intently on Josef, his teeth grinding in his jaw roughly. Josef took a long drag from the cigar before exhaling dramatically._

_"You must be the boys that have come to "exterminate" me?" His accent was thick, and obviously Russian._

_"Damned right we are." Freddie responded, taking a few more steps closer. "We can do this one of two ways. One; we torture your ass until you beg us to stop, and tell us where Victor and Anton are. Or, two; you roll over on your employers now, the Hesse brothers, and you spend the rest of your life in a jail cell in America. Choice is yours."_

_The man stared at them for a long moment, unmoving, and stoic like some sort of twisted gargoyle. He tossed the cigar to the dingy, dirty cement floor in front of him, and crushed it out with the toe of his polished boot before leaning back against the chair stubbornly. That was all it took for Steve to snap. They needed to know where the Hesse brothers were, and they were running out of time. He surged forward, dragging Koebel out of his chair, and drew him toward the rain-pelted window._

_"Tell us where they are, Koebel, or I'm going to rain hell down on you until you break. And, trust me, I'm really good at raining down hell." His voice was barely above a snarl as he drove the man's cheek against the window frame._

_"Fuck you, American dog. I'm not going to tell you anything!" The words were practically spat, almost dripping with venom as he spewed them. Steve glared for a long moment before slamming his elbow into the window, shattering one of the panes, and yanked out a good sized piece. His fingers dug into the hinges of Koebel's jaw until his mouth popped open, and Steve shoved the glass into place._

_His fist colliding with Koebel's jaw produced a sickening crunch of glass, and the wet sound of blood as it leaked through the man's teeth, over his lips. The sound that escaped the Russian was tortured, and pained._

_"Ready to talk?!" Steve snarled over the agonized cries. Koebel nodded quickly, his hands scrambling to try to pull the glass from his own mouth. Steve shoved him back into the chair, and proceeded to listen as the man spilled his guts, literally and figuratively, and then relayed the Hesse brothers' position to their HQ._

_Maybe this was going to be the lead that finally got the bastards._

_Nearly an hour later, Koebel was in handcuffs and on his way to a prison off the coast of California that he wouldn't see the outside of in this lifetime, and Freddie and Steve were boarding a plane to find Victor and Anton._

_They were on their way to Malta._

 


	4. Chapter 4

**_Five-0 Headquarters_ **

**_Present Day_ **

Jason Griffin figited nervously in the interogation room, wringing his hands against his board shorts. Kono and Chin watched him from the doorway quietly.

"Someone looks awfully nervous for a guy that claimed to be innocent an hour ago." Chin mumbled, running his hand over his face with a soft sigh.

"Mhm. He's definitely in on this, somehow. And, I'm going to find out how." She stepped forward, pushing the door open, and stepping into the interrogation room. "Jason Griffin." She flipped open the file folder in her hand.

"Look, I already told the guys who came to file the report on the boat damage, it wasn't my fault! The waves were getting crazy, and the storm pulled me into the marina too fast!"

"Hey. Do me a favor, and settle down, lolo. We didn't bring you in because of the boat damage. Well, not entirely anyway. Is this the man who owned the boat you hit?" She held up a shot of their victim on the M.E.'s table, and watched as Griffin's eyes doubled in size.

"Is...is he _dead_?!"

"Yes. He's dead, and the one person that we've found who had a problem with him? That's you, Jason. So, you better start explaining, because you're not exactly looking like the innocent face here. Where were you on Wednesday at six P.M.?"

"I-I was at an A.A. meeting at the junior high school! There's a room full of people who don't know my last name, but they sure as hell know what my face looks like. Call 'em! They'll tell you that I was there!"

"Good, I'm going to need a list of their names, because we _are_ going to be checking out your alibi. And, if there's one discrepency in that story, so help me, we will bury you in it. Do I make myself clear?" Jason nodded erratically. "Good. Now, get out of here. But, don't leave town, and keep your cellphone on you. We'll be in touch, Mister Griffin." The man nodded again, and scampered out of the room as soon as the cuffs on his wrist were removed.

Kono sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Chin stepped in beside her.

"Is it too much to hope for that his alibi is a bust?" He questioned quietly.

"I'm going to go ahead and say yeah, probably. But, we'll run it anyway. Any word from Danny? Did Steve wake up yet?"

"Nah, nothing." Her face seemed to fall even more than it already had. "Hey, that's not to say that he won't. The doctor said it could take a while for him to wake up. You never know, his body could just be taking longer for him to heal up."

"Yeah, it could. Or, it could be because he's _not going_ to wake up." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed down the tightness in her throat that indicated she was about to cry. Which she refused to do. Had refused to do since Steve got hit.

"Cuz, you can't think that way. You're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking like that." Chin's hand on her shoulder was all it took for the walls to crumble in her.

Tears started to fall across her cheeks, leaving wet tracks on the tanned skin. She cried until she was hiccuping through short breaths, and her shoulders were shaking. Chin wrapped her in his arms tightly, cradling her to his chest, and running his hand through her hair. He shushed her soothingly, whispering absent words of comfort into her dark hair.

"Wh-what if this is it, Chin? We've all been dilusional enough to think that he's going to live forever, and that nothing can hurt him, but that's not true! He's human, just like the rest of us. But, I..." She paused, as if testing her next words on her tongue for a moment. "I don't think that we're going to be able to keep it together if he doesn't wake up..."

"C'mon, Kono. You know that's not true. Remember when he's been away on training missions? We didn't like it, we all wanted him to come home, but...we kept it together. Because we need to. We need to protect the island, and everyone on it." She knew he was right, deep down, but it still killed her to think about. "Danny's a good leader, too. He'll keep us together."

"You can't tell me that you honestly think that Danny would be holding it together. If _anything_ happens to Steve, you know he's going to be a wreck. We're going to have to pull him back together, Chin. Make sure he doesn't lose it completely..."

"Kono, we have to have-."

"What the hell is the matter with you two?" Danny's voice was sharp, and reverberated off of the cement walls like ricocheting bullets.

"Danny!" Kono gasped, spinning to face the smaller detective, her hands fluttering near her face. "I-I didn't hear you come in. Is Steve okay? Has he woken up yet?"

"No. He's not awake. I came to check on the leads that you two were running down. But, instead, I found you two sitting in here talking about McGarrett like he's already dead!" Danny seethed, stepping closer. The bags under his eyes made him look almost demonic as he did, his hands clenched into his wrinkled, messy slacks. "He's not going to die! That bastard can't die, because I said so! I haven't given him permission, so he's going to keep breathing, keeping annoying the hell out of all of us, and finish that hunk of metal he calls a car! You hear me?!"

He'd been stalking closer with each declaration, and was now inches in front of them, his eyes fiery, and his breathing ragged and hot. Danny jabbed his finger into both of their faces in turn.

"You two just worry about doing your damned job, and I'll worry about Steve. Sound good?" His voice had lowered, but the tone that lingered on the words told them that he wasn't to be questioned, or he would snap again.

"Danny, we didn't mean that...you know...we weren't talking about Steve like he wasn't going to wake up. You have to know that..." Kono's hand fluttered between resting on the smaller man's shoulder, and clenching by her side. Danny's blue eyes were boring into her like drill bits, and his teeth were clenched loud enough to crack.

"You did. You don't think that he's going to be able to pull out of this, and you practically have him six feet under already. All we need is the twenty-one gun salute, huh?! You two have a _job_ to do. You're supposed to be finding the son of a bitch that put your boss, your _ohana_ into that hospital bed. But, where are the leads? Nowhere! So, quit trying to bury Steve before he's dead, get your asses out the door, and do your damned jobs!" Kono and Chin stared at him for a long moment, their jaws hanging slightly agape. "Go!" With that, they scampered out of the interrogation room, leaving Danny standing in the middle of it.

He willed his hands to unclench from where they were wrinkling his slacks, his knuckles aching from how tight his hands were. He staggered backwards until his back hit the cool, clammy bricks of the wall, and he slid to the floor, extending his back knee.

Danny drove the heel of his right hand against his eye, trying to push back the familiar burn of tears that threatened to overtake him. It seemed like he'd been trying to fight them off for two days now, but it wasn't working. The tears tracked, hot and wet down his cheeks and into the fabric of his shirt. His muscles quivered and quaked as the sobs began to wrack through him.

He was sure that he looked more than a little pathetic with his nose running, tears soaking his face, and his breaths coming in nothing more than choked, struggled inhales and exhales. His clenched fists slammed against the floor hared enough to bruise the skin there, but not enough to break the small bones of his hand.

"Why the hell did you have to do this to him? He's a _good_ man! The best...the best man I've ever met, and you do nothing but kick him while he's down!" He yelled the words to the ceiling, cursing out a man that he was only half sure he believed in.

His faith, minute as it was, was dwindling every second that Steve was in that hospital bed, and he was sure it was going to be gone completely until his partner opened his eyes, and they had their perp in custody.

**_X X X X X X X X X X_ **

**_Malta_ **

**_June 2002_ **

_"You know, these guys could've been hunkered down somewhere where it isn't a hundred and sixty degrees at midnight. That would've been nice." Freddie grumbled from under the palm fronds that they had used as cover while waiting for the sun to set over the compound._

_There were eight small huts below the jungle-covered hillside that they had set up on, and Steve was watching the movement below through a sniper rifle scope with burlap draped over the lens. He tracked a few of the patrols through their routes, memorizing the paths through the compound that each pair took. He shifted the beef jerky he'd been gnawing on to the side of his cheek before speaking._

_"It's only eight-three, whineass. It could be worse. You remember that run we had in Bosnia? It was way worse off there. This is a tropical island, man."_

_"You're just eatin' this up, aren't you, Steven? This is like home to you, right? All...humidity, and palm trees, and 7.62 rounds?" Steve barked out a hushed laugh, muffling it behind his gloved hand._

_"For your information, 7.62's aren't exactly household items on the island. Hard as that is to believe." Freddie gave a feigned gasp, putting a hand to his chest dramatically._

_"You mean that all Hawaiians aren't class A snipers? C'mon, now, Smooth Dog, you're breaking my heart with all of these 'fun facts' about the island. I had all of these pre-concieved fantasies about oil-slicked hula girls, and umbrella drinks with a side of gun fire. Why do you have to crush my fantasy, man?"_

_"I think it has something to do with Kelly. Ya know, your girlfriend? She might have some imput about the oil-slicked hula girls." Steve smirked, flicking the scope on his MK11 from night vision to heat vision, trailing the crosshairs over the buildings before settling on the furthest from their position. "Bingo. I've got eyes on the target building."_

_"You sure?" Freddie lifted his binoculars from their pouch, and looked down at the building. "Confirm two tangoes in the structure, but we'll need to get closer before we can call it a confirm on package, man..."_

_"It's them. I know it is, Freddie, I can feel it in my gut. We're so close to getting these bastards." Steve rumbled, shifting from his crouch into a prone position, squinting and staring down the scope. "From the looks of things, we've got one roving patrol, two men, and a two man team up in the crow's nest. The rovers split up when they hit the front gate, and then they're apart until they reach the back section. We can take them out one at a time, and then we can take the boys in the crow's nest with a sim shot."_

_"Sounds like a plan, bud. Wind's coming from the Northeast at three knots."_

_"Roger that." Steve's voice had lowered to a whisper, and he reached up the the dials he used to dope the scope, dialing them in to the right measurements. "Impact point at nine hundred meters." He clicked another dial into place. "Gonna lead the bastard three mils, should walk right into the trajectory." Freddie was quiet a moment as he mentally checked Steve's math before nodding._

_"Confirmed. Spotter ready." Steve flicked the safety off, checking his settings one last time._

_"Shooter ready."_

_"Confirm, shooter ready. Take the shot."_

_Steve took three deep breaths, inhaling through his nose, and exhaling through his mouth. On the third exhale, he stopped breathing all together to steady himself, and finally applied the two pounds of pressure to the trigger that was necessary. The gun cracked out the bullet, recoiling against Steve's shoulder as it did._

_The man that had taken the path to the left jerked before crumbling to the ground with a pink mist in the bullet's wake. Steve moved the scope to survey the man on the ground, grimacing slightly at the pulpy mess that had taken residence at the top of the man's neck in place of his head._

_"Confirmed kill. Aquiring next target." His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke to Freddie, turning the rifle some to track the other man. He was smaller than the first, but stocky, his shoulders were broad in his uniform as he rounded a corner. "Target spotted." He doped the scope again, switching the dials to the correct settings carefully and reported the calculations to Freddie._

_"Confirmed. Spotter ready."_

_"Shooter ready."_

_"Confirm shooter ready. Take the shot."_

_The second man went down a bit more messily than the first. Steve watched as the bullet tore through flesh and bone, spraying a fine mist across the building behind him. The body twisted at a strange angle as it fell, one that nearly torque it in half. Steve's stomach didn't even roll at sights like that anymore._

_"Confirmed kill." They repeated the process once more, both of them sighting their rifles on the two men that patrolled the crow's nest. They fired their shots in sync, th report of the weapons sounding as if they were the same gun. The two men crumbled, falling over the railling of the crow's nest, and landing with a plum of dirt on the ground below._

_"Tangos neutralized. Move up." Freddie popped up from the prone position, grabbing is gear, and then turned to where Steve was crouched behind a tree, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the compound._

_When Freddie's hand fell onto his shoulder, he moved forward, gun at the ready. Together, the men crept through the small buildings of the compound, freezing every so often to make sure that there weren't more patrols, and that they hadn't been compromised in any way._

_The door of the building that they believed to be their target building loomed in front of them. Steve could feel his heart pounding in his chest in excitement as he got closer. They were going to get the Hesse brothers. This was it._

_He moved to one side of the door while Freddie crept to the other, staring at Steve as he waited for their next move. Steve held up one hand, motioning for Freddie to wait for his go to enter and clear the room. He counted to three on his fingers, and then his combat boot connected with the door, sending it off its hinges, and he swarmed in, gun drawn._

_"Anton and Victor Hesse, get on the ground! Get down now!" Steve's voice boomed loudly. A chatter of voices greeted him as a response, but none of them sounded like the Hesse brothers. When he was able to focus, he was confronted with three men, none of which were the brothers. He quickly fired off a few shots, hearing Freddie's gun going off beside him, and the men in front of them fell._

_He paced through the room, checking every possible hiding place, before standing in the center of the room, cuing his comm system with a frustrated growl._

_"Bigeye, this is Striker Six-one. The packages are nowhere to be found here. Thinkt he intel was incorrect, over." The comm crackled in his ear._

_"Striker Six-One, confirmed no package. You sure that they're not in any of those buildings?"_

_"Negative. We're looking at a newly created ghost town. Seven bodies, no targets. This is bullshit, Bigeye."_

_"Roger that," The voice in his ear chuckled out a raspy laugh. "We're sending in the extract for you guys. Two clicks, Northeast."_

_"Roger, Bigeye, we'll beat feet that way. See you guys back on the water." He turned to Freddie._

_"Hey, man. We'll get these guys, okay?" Steve nodded, resting his hand on the stock of his gun as they headed out of the building and back into the jungle toward their extract point._

_"I know that..."_

_"You sure? 'Cause you're face looks like someone stole your favorite grenade stash." Freddie grinned, nudging Steve's shoulder._

_"I'm sure, bud. Let's just...can we not talk about it? It's still kind of a bummer that we didn't get them this time." He sighed, ducking under the thick trunk of a low hanging tree._

_"Course." The men walked a few moments in silence before Freddie spoke up again. "Kelly and I had another fight. When I called to tell her that we were coming here instead of going home."_

_"Yeah? Aw, hell, Freddie, I'm sorry, bud." Freddie pulled a half shrug, rubbing at the back of his neck with a gloved hand._

_"I mean...I can't really be mad at her for getting upset about me being gone this much. She didn't sign on for this, I wasn't a SEAL when we got together. I was a football captain and a class clown. I'm sure she expected that when we graduated, still."_

_"Even if she expected that, this is what she's got now...it can be hard for a lot of people to be with someone in the military. You and I both know that there isn't exactly a game plan all written out about how to make these kinda things work."_

_"I dunno, Steve. I just...I don't want her to get tired of waiting for me to come back, and then leave me with an empty house and a 'Dear John'." Steve stopped walking, reaching out and closing his hand around Freddie's elbow._

_"Hey. Look at me." Freddie complied, the panic of losing the woman he'd been with for as long as Steve could remember evident in every line on his face. "If she leaves you high and dry that way, I'm sorry but she wasn't the one for you anyway. If she's half the woman that I have been accepting her to be, than she will always be at that door waiting for you with open arms. Okay? Because, you're the greatest guy I know, and you deserve someone that's going to treat you like you should be."_

_There was a long silence, as if Freddie was floundering for something to say in response. Steve rarely ever said things to that effect, and frankly, he was surprised at his own openness. But, this was his best friend, a guy he cared about more than he thought possible, and he didn't like the torque of his gut every time Freddie looked upset and broken like this._

_"Geeze, McGarrett, you're awfully touchy-feely today. You gettin' in touch with your feminine side on R and R?" Steve wanted to give some witty retort. Wanted to crack off a snappy one-liner, shove Freddie's shoulder, and head to the extract, putting the entire thing behind them._

_But, that's not what Steve did. He couldn't. Instead of doing all of those far more logical, practical things, he stepped forward into Freddie's space, grasping the front of his uniform, and pulled him forward. The kiss was rough, and rushed, too damp and overheated from the humidity of the air around them, and the panic of crossing a line that could ruin his career sitting like a ball of lead in Steve's gut._

_It took a moment for him to release that he wasn't being punched, or pushed away. In fact, Freddie was clinging to him just as tightly, lips moving in sync with Steve's until they had to tear apart to suck in air, their foreheads pressed against one another._

_"I..Jesus, man, I'm sorry..." Steve stammered, though the apology seemed a bit weak when his knuckles were white from clutching at Freddie's uniform._

_"Steve...we can't...it would ruin us, man. We wouldn't be able to be SEALs anymore, and...you know how my dad is about that." His voice was quiet as he spoke, a hand resting on Steve's neck. Steve nodded slowly, his nose brushing over Freddie's before he pulled back._

_"I...let's just...forget this ever happened, okay? You and Kelly are gonna be fine, I promise." He mumbled. Freddie was about to respond when the comm crackled to life._

_"Striker Six-One, we've got a ride for you boys if you want it, but you better get moving." Steve cleared his throat and cued up his comm._

_"This is Striker Six-One, we are almost at the exfil." He stepped away from Freddie, refusing to look at him until they had tramped through the woods, and broke into a clearing where the Black Hawk was waiting for them._

_They climbed into the chopper, and as Steve watched the island below them disappear, Steve couldn't help the nagging feeling that he just wanted to go home and forget that he made the biggest mistake of his life._

**_X X X X X X X X X X_ **

**_USS Enterprise_ **

**_Thirty minutes later_ **

_When the Black Hawk touched down, Steve scampered onto the deck of the carrier, stopping when he reached the small collection of people waiting on the deck for them, Freddie hot on his heels._

_"Chief." Steve saluted Joe White mechanically before allowing his hand to drop down to his side again._

_"McGarrett. Hart. Well done, boys."_

_"Sir...the targets weren't at the location, the mission wasn't complete." Steve responded, his brow furrowed. Joe stared at him as if he was trying to read everything about him. Steve silently prayed that the incident with Freddie in the woods wasn't written all over his face._

_"I'm aware that they weren't there. But, you boys both made it back on the ship without any new holes in ya, so I'm counting that as a win. We'll get the bastards, okay? You have my word." Steve nodded._

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Good. Now that we've got that cleared up, Lieutenant Catherine Rollins here is going to lead you to your bunks until we dock back in the states." The men replied with "yes, sir"s and headed toward the small woman that Joe had indicated._

_"Gentlemen, it's good to see you made it back safely." She stated with a smile, her hand extended toward Steve. "Lieutenant Rollins."_

_"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. This is Lieutenant Commander Freddie Hart. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He stammered after a moment. It took him a second to realize that he was staring, his mouth hanging slightly agape. Rollins was a pretty woman, there was no denying that._

_They followed her through the bowels of the carrier until they reached two rooms. She pointed the one on the left, much to Steve's relief, and told Freddie that he would be there and Steve would be in the one next to him. Freddie clapped him on the shoulder and disappeared to get out of his gear and into a much needed shower. Steve was all too aware of the grime and dirt clinging to his skin. He was sure he looked like hell._

_"And this is your bunk, Commander." Rollins stated, that shy smile still firmly in place on her lips._

_"Thank you, Lieutenant." She nodded and was starting down the corridor when Steve found his voice again. "Lieutenant!"_

_"Yes, Commander?"_

_"I, uh...when we get back to Coronado...would you mind if I...took you out to dinner?" Her face lit up at the invite and she nodded quickly, her hands working over the cap in her hands._

_"I'd like that." She replied, the smile even evident in her tone._

_"Great...dinner it is then." Catherine nodded before disappearing quickly. Steve grinned and ducked into his bunk. Maybe this was what he needed to put all thoughts of Freddie out of his mind._

_X X X X X X X X X X_

 


	5. Chapter 5

_**Five-0 Headquarters**_

**_Present Day_ **

"No way..." Kono breathed, her eyes glued to the media table in front of her.

            "What'cha got, Cous?" Chin ducked out of his office, striding over to the table and looking down at the photographs. His eyes widened as he surveyed the photograph staring back at him. "Hesse? _How?_ "

            "I don't know...last I heard, he was still staring at the bricks in Halawa..."

            "There's no way that he's part of this. I was just up there last week, and they said that he's still sitting pretty in maximum security."

            "Besides, it wouldn't make sense for him to be contracting biochemical warfare that has nothing to do with Steve. That's basically what all of his recent attacks have focused on, right? As payback for killing Anton?"

            "Well, yeah, but before that he was just a general, all-around scumbag."

            "So, how exactly is he putting this together from the inside? He's obviously got someone working out here, but who? Wo Fat is in the same boat that Hesse is in." Kono sighed, running her hand over her face. "We've got to tell Danny, either way. He needs to know that we've got a lead." Chin nodded shortly as Kono pulled her phone from her jeans pocket, and dialed Danny's number. He answered before the first ring had even finished.

            "Kono. What've you guys got?"

            "Well...you're not gonna like it, boss."

            "I don't give a damn if I'm going to like it, or not. Tell me."

            "...It's Hesse, Danny. We traced the contract of the cyclosarin to an account in Hesse's name. We don't have information on how he got word to the supplier yet." There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Danny let out a shaky sigh.

            "Okay...okay, okay, okay...this isn't a problem...we can go talk to Hesse, and we can squeeze him until he gives up the name of the supplier. Then we arrest his ass, and make him give up the name of the guy that he got to put that shit on the boat, and we make sure that Halawa rots around the bastards. I don't want them seeing the light of day outside of their hour in the yard for the rest of their lives. Understand?"

            "Yeah, I understand. We're gonna get these guys, Danny. And, after we do that, Steve is going to wake up, and everything is going to be back to normal. You'll see. I know it's going to be." She whispered into the phone, half trying to convince the man on the other end, but trying to convince herself just as much.

            "Got it...hey, Kono? I'm sorry...I know that I've been hard on you and Chin through out this whole case, but...I couldn't do this without you guys. I would probably be sitting at my desk, staring at the floor if I didn't have you guys running down the hard stuff on this one, and they'd be contracting a flight to ship my ass back to Jersey." He hesitated before continuing. "And, as much as I _hate_ to admit this, Hawaii has become my home, in no short part to you, Chin, and Steve. You guys are my family, and I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

            Pulling the phone away from her ear, Kono stared at it for a long moment, her jaw working open and closed like a fish before she pressed it to her ear again. She wasn't used to such emotional vulnerability, especially from the smooth talking Jersey detective, and she wasn't sure how to respond. It was just another reminder of how hard he was taking this.

            "That's what ohana is for, boss. And that's what we are, the four of us. We're family, and we're going to be here for you. No matter what." Danny's shaky breaths answered her for a few moments before he cleared his throat.

            "I, uh, I know. So...you guys look for anymore leads there, keep checking on the money trail from Hesse's account. I'm going to go pay him a visit in Halawa."

            "What about Steve? Shouldn't someone be there with him?" Kono questioned, her brow furrowed.

            "The doctor said that they don't expect him to wake up today...trust me, the nurse has been giving me the hairy eyeball from the desk for the past six hours because I keep asking. I can run out for an hour or so."

            "...You know that they won't let you kill him, right?"

            "As much as it pains me, and as much as I believe that they should comend me for doing a public service, yes, I know that they won't. Luckily there will be plexiglass between us. Call me if you guys find anything else, capiche?"

            "You got it, Boss Man. And, you let us know if Hesse cracks."          

            "Oh, you'll be the first to know."

**_X X X X X X X X X X_ **

**_Halawa Correctional Facility_ **

**_Twenty Minutes Later_ **

"Well, Detective. What a nice surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Hesse deadpanned the question as he sat opposite Danny in the visiting room of the prison. "And where-oh-where is that dashing partner of yours? It's been far too long since Steve darkened my doorway."

            Danny was almost positive that his teeth were on the verge of shattering in his jaw as he ground them. Staring at the man in front of him made his blood boil. Not in the usual "Steven, you can't just torture a suspect into talking, this isn't Guantanamo!" sort of way that his blood boiled. No, it was more then way that his blood had boiled when he saw a tall girl from the other team trip Gracie at the Hoboken Pee-Wee Soccer Championships.

            "I'm going to explain how this is going to go once, and once only, so listen carefully. I am going to ask you questions about something that I know damned well you have the answers to. You are then going to, very cooperatively, answer said questions in clear, conscise statements. Good?"

            "If I misbehave, do you promise to spank me?" Hesse responded, clasping his manacled hands in a "please" gesture, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

            "That's strike one and two. The cyclosarin attack you funded. Why?"

            "If you think that I'm going to incriminate myself in a biological warfare event, then you have another thing coming, Detective Williams. I'm not stupid." Danny let out a snarl, and stood, wrapping his hand around the small camera on his side of the box, and ripped it from the cement wall, cords and all. He slammed it on the metal table that was seperated by plexiglass, and sat back down.

            " _Why?!_ " He snapped again, glaring daggers at Hesse.

            "Because, Detective, in case you have forgotten, I am an arms dealer. I contract in creating the most amount of chaos possible. You should be familiar with men like me. You make puppy eyes at a man just like me every day. We men of violence. Such trouble-makers aren't we?" He gave a sharp smirk, his tongue seeming to have loosened the second that Danny crushed the camera.

            "How did you know that Steve was going to be on that boat?" There was a long pause as Hesse stared at Danny incredulously, his head tilted slightly.

            "McGarrett was on the boat?"

            "The cyclosarin hit him! He's in a damned coma!"

            "Oh, this story keeps getting better and better. I didn't know that Steve was going to be on the boat, Detective. But, I can't say that I'll be losing any sleep over the fact that his brain in slowly deterioarating."

            "The hospital gave him drugs to counteract the effects of the cyclosarin..." Danny responded, his eyes narrowed.

            "Oh, my dear Detective, that doesn't mean that it isn't in there nipping away at his motor functions, short term memory, and muscle tissue." The grin that Hesse gave him sent a shiver down Danny's spine and made his stomach roil violently. He had to use serious self-control to keep himself from throwing up a stomach full of bile right there.

            "You son of a bitch...who ordered the attack?"

            "Come, now. You can't honestly pretend that you don't know exactly who I work for. We both know that you have an entire file on my employer that is thick than my..." He gestured toward his crotch with his hands. "Big Ben, so to speak."

            "...Wo Fat? That doesn't match his M.O., why is he changing things up now?" Hesse heaved a dramatic sigh.

            "You cops, you're such linear thinkers. If you already know Wo Fat's M.O., then _why_ would it shock you that he changed it up?! He doesn't want you to track him." He shook his head slowly. "Your file in Jersey _really_ doesn't fit your skill level, Detective. It makes you look so...good at your job." Danny glared for a moment.

            "I didn't expect you to actually be this helpful, you know. I was anticipating...a hell of a lot more argument."

            "Well," He shook the handcuffs around his wrists as a way of explination. "It isn't exactly like I'm going to be going anywhere soon. And, I was hoping that, if I was helpful, you'd be inclined to do me a favor."

            "...What kind of favor?" Hesse chewed at his bottom lip, glancing around nervously before moving closer to the plexiglass. Danny leaned closer instinctively.

            "Tell Commander McGarrett that I said to be careful playing with those blocks he'll be using in the future. Those corners can be a wee bit sharp." Danny's hand connected with the plexiglass as he let out a feral yell, his face red in his anger.

            "This prison is going to _rot_ around your ass, you understand me?! You're gonna pay for doing this to Steve!"

            "Promises, promises, Detective Williams." Hesse wiggled his fingers in a fake wave as the guard took him away, and Danny stormed out of the building.

            It wasn't until he reached his Camaro that he had time to suck in ragged, uneven breaths, his eyes stinging with tears behind the closed lids, and a feral scream tearing from his throat. His fists connected with the steering wheel several times before he was able to collect himself and hit the ignition.

            He needed to get back to the hospital in case Steve woke up. The words from Hesse had made him need it even more. Steve couldn't wake up...different. He couldn't. He was going to wake up, make some stupid joke that only he would think was funny, and they were all going to laugh about how Danny was so worried Steve was going to die over Longboards. He just knew it.

            So, he angled the Camaro out of the parking lot, and headed back toward Kings.

**_X X X X X X X X X X_ **

**_Afghanistan_ **

**_August 2006_ **

**** _"McGarrett, we've got boots on the ground in five." The pilot's voice was barely audible over the sound of the plane's engines, but Steve still flashed an "okay" sign with his hand as he pulled the oxygen mask over his face. He checked his chute once more before shuffling toward the door that was slowly opening._

_Freddie was to his left, and the new kid...Kyles (Steve was pretty sure anyway) was to his right. The three of them were on a mission to insert into a small compound on the outskirts of an Afghan village where intel had told them that Anton and Victor were supposed to be working through a deal._

_Chief White had pulled Steve aside before the mission and asked him what exactly was wrong with him and Freddie, stating that they weren't the same as they had been for a while now. Steve's stomach had jumped into his throat at the question, but he contained himself enough that he wasn't being an open book. He knew that the stunt he'd pulled with Freddie years before had been ballsy. What he hadn't expected was the sickening bubble of jealously to bloom in his stomach for years after every time that Freddie brought up Kelly._

_He liked Kelly. He really did, despite all the evidence to the contrary, but that didn't mean that his feelings for Freddie were any different. Steve knew, however, that between the military's policies on...that sort of relationship, as well as the fact that all evidence pointed to Freddie being as straight as an arrow, he needed to stuff that jealousy down into one of the several lock boxes in his head that they'd basically installed during BUD/s._

_"Steve, it's jump time, brother!" Freddie nudged his arm, drawing him out of his reverie, and made him focus on the jump at hand. They watched the lights on the walls of the plane flick through the sequence until they turned green and then they were hurling themselves into the dark abyss of the night sky._

_He allowed his eyes to slide closed, reveling in the feeling of almost weightlessness, the rush of air past his body, and the surge of adrenaline that bubbled in his chest. He counted the seconds in his head until he could pull the rip cord, the chute blossoming around over his head adn jerking him upright._

_The other two men pulled their chutes at the same time, and the three of them were on the ground solidly a few moments later, detatching the chutes from their packs and drawing their guns, scanning the surrounding area through green tinged night vision scopes._

_"Clear to the left." Kyles whispered over the comm._

_"Clear right." That was Freddie's voice buzzing in Steve's ear. He had point. His eyes scanned through the buildings on the edge of the compound across from them._

_"Clear front. I count two buildings with lights on. They're at the corners of the compound."_

_"Security huts?" Kyles questioned, creeping through the grass at the same pace as Freddie to his right._

_"Could be. Could also just be barracks with some people up late. We'll have to do checks of them."_

_"Roger that. I'll take the left, you take right, Kyles. McGarrett, you stay on point and we'll converge on you."Steve nodded at Freddie and the three men went their seperate ways, crouching low and creeping through the tall grass._

_The blades rustled quietly as he moved through them, the dry stalks of grass tearing through his skin anywhere that it was bared by his uniform. Steve silently cursed the desert with each step closer to the buildings. They weren't large buildings, but the thick cement walls framed against the night sky were intimidating._

_Steve turned to press his back to the center building's wall, his gun cradled close to his chest as he settled._

_"In position." His voice was low and gravelly through the comm. The other two were silent, so he assumed that they were still moving through the buildings to check the lights. Steve sighed softly and waited patiently until two black clad figures showed up beside him._

_"Right building is clear. Someone just left the lights on." Freddie reported._

_"Left building has our targets in it. Anton and Victor along with three Hajis. Two guards and our Big Kahuna." Steve liked Kyles. He was a good kid, born and raised in Waipahu. The two had instantly hit it off when they realized they were both island boys._

_"Sounds like we got ourselves a party then. Let's go knock and see if they have room for three more, shall we?" Steve grinned, checking his gun and thumbing off the safety before starting to move toward the hut, Freddie and Kyles in tow behind him. Kyles' hand was resting firmly on his shoulder, and Freddie's was resting on the other man's, stacking them easily when Steve reached the door._

            _He lifted a hand slowly, counting down from three with his fingers before his boot was connecting with the door. The air was filled with shouts, the puff of smoke from a smoke grenade, and the sounds of gunfire. When the air was clear enough to see through, Steve scanned over the bodies in front of him. The three Afghans were piled together, but Anton and Victor were nowhere to be seen._

_“Son of a BITCH!” Steve growled, slamming his hand against the small table in front of him. He looked over the collection of weapons that had been abandoned on the table and sighed. He had to thank someone out there for small favors._

_“Steve, we got a problem.” There was an urgency in Freddie’s voice that had Steve turning on his heel. The smell of blood was thick and made his stomach roil violently. Freddie was crouched over Kyles, his hands pressed down on a gaping wound in the other man’s stomach. Steve’s jaw dropped slightly, floundered for a moment before regaining himself and kneeling beside Kyles._

_“Call in our evac, we’ve got to get him on it! Now!” He barked out as he scooped Kyles up and lifted him over one shoulder. Freddie keyed the comm and called the Black Hawk that was waiting on standby, hollering their coordinates for an extraction. The men moved quickly out of the hut, jogging through the sand as quickly as possible._

_The tang of blood didn’t register in Steve’s mind until they were securely on the chopper. It was then that he realized that it was Kyles’ blood. In his mouth. His hand was sweaty as he gripped the handle and leaned forward to heave the meager contents of his stomach into a free fall._

_Kyles died en route to the base. The taste of his blood was still on Steve’s tongue. It stayed there for months. The dead look in his eyes stuck in his head permanently. Anton and Victor were still in the wind. They had lost a kid, and they hadn’t even been able to complete their mission._

_Freddie had taken an extended leave after returning to the States. Steve didn’t see him for three months._

**_X X X X X X X X X X_ **


End file.
